Dean, Sam, and the Scholastic Aptitude Test
by MTVbabe11
Summary: Sam receives his SAT scores. Dean reflects on the life he's chosen. Pre-season one. Short oneshot. Please read and review.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural._

There was always a choice.

Dean was bent over a photo album, flipping through the dusty pages with vague interest. His dad had been so happy back then. His mother so beautiful.

The album abruptly stopped after the halloween of Dean's fourth year.

Halloween. Dean snorted back a laugh. Omens come everywhere, even in faded green photo albums.

There was a knock at the door. Dean stuffed the album away--no one knew he had it, and he sure as hell wanted to keep it that way. He quickly grabbed a car magazine off his dresser and thumbed through it to one of his favorite articles. "Yup," he called. He really did enjoy having his own room.

Sam opened the door, stepped in, and shut the door. "What's wrong?" Dean asked. Vaguely, he wished he had grabbed a porno instead. That always made Sam uncomfortable, which, in turn, made Dean happy. But from the look of Sam's face--anxious, energized, and alert--well, maybe it wasn't the time for naked women.

Of course, it was always the time for naked women...

"Nothing," Sam was saying, and Dean snapped back to attention. A smile was working it's way onto Sam's tight face. "I got my SATs back."

"Yeah? How are they?"

For the first time, Dean noticed the letter Sam was clutching. "They're good, Dean. They're really good."

"Pass 'em over." Sam gave him the letter and Dean scanned the scores. Good...good was an understatement. They were great. They were fantastic.

"Wow, Sammy. Gonna be a college boy after all?" Dean teased. A pit in his stomach was forming. He dropped the car magazine and watched it's pages split as it's thin spine stuck up. Sam grabbed the letter back.

"I'm applying to Harvard, Standford, Yale…maybe a few safeties. I'm not sure about anything yet...except I want to go into law. Just don't tell Dad. Not yet." Sam wrinkled his nose and crinkled his eyes. "Dean...shouldn't you start thinking about colleges?

Dean forced a laugh out, though he doubted it fooled Sam much. It was sharp, harsh, and altogether too fast and short. "I'm 21, Sam, I'm way past that pubescent age in my life."

Sam sat down on the floor next to Dean. At first, Dean was glad. Sam was finally going down to Dean's level. Hell if Dean liked craning his head all the time. But then Sam said, "Look, Dean, I know you think that your stuck in this life, or that your not smart enough for anything else, but your not stuck, and you are smart. I think....I think we ought to try and find somewhere for you to go."

So much for going down to Dean's level.

"I don't 'feel' like I need to stay, Sammy, I don't want to go to college."

"Come on. We can find some of your old teachers, dig up your SAT scores--"

"Believe me, you don't want to see them," Dean said. They're horrible."

Sam frowned. "They can't be that bad."

"Oh, they are."

"Let me see them," Sam insisted.

Dean laughed--that same harsh, fast laugh. "You are never, ever, ever, seeing those scores," he said. "Look, just leave it alone okay? I made my choice. Go study calculus or whatever you do for fun. I have work to do."

Sam sighed, but he stood up. He gave Dean one more pleading look, then turned. "I am going, Dean," he said as he opened the door. Dean said nothing in reply. It wasn't something he was willing to think about yet. It wasn't even something he could think about yet. Sure, Sam would go, okay, we'll see. The door shut behind Sam. Dean kicked the magazine under the bed. He retrieved the album, considered, and then chucked it at the wall. It hit it hard with a satisfying BOOM and the slid down where it sat helplessly,.

Dean crossed the room to a lone suit case. He opened it up, dug through the clothing to the bottom (why unpack beyond what's needed?) and found it—a single vanilla folder, jam-packed to the top.

There was no fate. There was a choice. Dean choose this. Life choose this for him.

Or was that fate?

It didn't matter. Dean was never showing Sam his scores. He opened the folder, leafed throughit , and found what he was looked for. Yes. That was what he thought. He closed it and walked away, sealing them inside forever.

He would never show Sam his scores--because in the end, his scores were higher than Sam's.


End file.
